


Ruffled Feathers, Right as Rain

by Augenblickgotter



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ace Lives, Angel & Demon Interactions, Angel/Demon Relationship, Asexual Relationship, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Bathing/Washing, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Dancing in the Rain, F/M, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Pining, Protective Crowley, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Touching, Wing Grooming, Wing Kink, Wing Oil, Worried Crowley (Good Omens), helpful anathema
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:19:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22996819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Augenblickgotter/pseuds/Augenblickgotter
Summary: "Seriously, Angel," Crowley said, recrossing his arms and pacing back and forth, "I thought you said you had standards, you damn ruffled mop!"~~~~~~~~~~~~Aziraphale becomes oddly lax with his usual meticulous standards and won't even hide his wings which have become increasingly dirty. Crowley frets and goes to Anathema for advice.Maybe all that is needed is a little rain to reveal the truth.Absolute FLUFF. Simple fluff. Special thanks to moonymistress for the push to write it!Inspired by an adorable piece by artist Talhi Briones, please go give the piece proper love; https://www.instagram.com/p/B9KUk_SF-_f/
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 182
Collections: Classic Good Omens Fics





	Ruffled Feathers, Right as Rain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moonymistress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonymistress/gifts).



The tires screeched outside, a car door slammed.

Fitting the speedy tempo, the book shop-door bell jangled and the methodic swaggering steps approached.

"Hey, Angel!" Crowley's somewhat surprised voice called.

"Even saving the world humanity, it appears it's all dead for bookshops today. Why don't you close up and..." Crowley had rounded through the main floor and was sauntering to the back where he knew Aziraphale would be. 

He stopped himself totally and gripped one of the doorframe edges, jumping backward slightly. 

"What gives?!" he yelped.

He had come in many times to Aziraphale so entranced in a book in a cozy nook, back turned. But this time he was greeting by Azirphale, back turned, in his cozy nook, certainly entranced in a book. Not out of the ordinary in any way. 

But today his wings were visible.

"One more moment, Crowley, please, and I'll be right with you," Aziraphale murmured as he flipped to another page, hyper-focusing through his spectacles.

Crowley gawked and stretched out his neck slightly.

"Uh, Aziraphale, is everything alright?"

"Oh yes, " Aziraphale rushed, still fascinated with his reading. "Anathema has been so wonderfully kind to lend me some of her family book collection! Such a lovely young lady!" 

"Oh, yeah, uhm, how nice," Crowley said scrutinizing over his sunglasses trying to comprehend the whole scene.

_"What the hell gives?! "_

"Uhh, so, wings? Out and about? Twenty four, seven?"

"Ohh, uh, that!" Aziraphale broke from his reading like he just realized that he had them. 

"Yeah, **that**. What do you tell people who might walk back here while you are in this state of confusion? It's a Halloween costume you forgot to take off?" 

"Oh, no one's seen me!" Aziraphale chided closing the book carefully and setting it aside. "I mean, well, Adam stopped by with his friends to borrow some books. But Adam HAS seen both of us with our wings." Aziraphale was unbuttoning and peeling his gloves off meticulously, still talking. 

"So there was really no fuss there...."

"The OTHER kids, though," Crowley said with a positive shock. "They... hadn't, so to speak..."

"Oh Crowley, Please!" Aziraphale begged, turning slightly as he folded the white gloves up. "They knew, and rather wanted to see them! Even Pepper! "

Crowley leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms.

"Well, I suppose it's no big deal," he derided. "Did they want to touch them though? Ruffle the feathers? See if they were real?" 

Aziraphale flicked his eyes sideways guiltily for a moment and was silent.

"For the love of it," Crowley groaned. "Did you fly around the bookshop too?"

"Of course not! There's not enough room to do that!" Aziraphale protested innocently.

The Demon snorted and turned his head.

"I'll bet you did once, just to please those kids, but I'm not pressing here."

Crowley slung one leg in front of the other as he remained leaning again the doorframe.

"Well, alright then. Maybe the notion that we are untethered from our godly and ungodly duties is enough to make you lax. I can get behind that very easily. But may I bring up a transgression I find more offensive?"

"What is that?" Aziraphale asked, looking stricken.

"Your wings look.... manky."

Aziraphale glanced back fleetingly.

"Oh. Yes. " He gave his nervous acknowledging grin before looking away. "Now that you mention it, they do. Well, not proper for an angel, is it?"

"Uh, Angel, " Crowley cornered, taking off his sunglasses fully.

"Unkempt is the best sugar coating I could come up with. They are filthy. They are dirty. They are... ruffled and... curling?"

Aziraphale glanced back again with a frown and gave them his wings a small half-hearted flap.

"Well, maybe I've been so busy I've neglected to keep up my appearance..."

Crowley paused internally, wondering if the world had actually come to an end and this was no longer his closest friend he thought he knew from literal day One.

_"Or maybe someone switched bodies with him... it's a trap I'm just walking into. The general overall grudge reminds me of....ugh, Hastur. I can't live with that."_

"Neglected to keep up your appearance?!" Crowley gasped, letting his arms drop and straightening his body up. "What gives? Are you all alright? I mean, look at you!"

He stalked closer. Aziraphale scooted one wing between them like a curtain he was hiding behind, but Crowley pushed it aside. 

"Eeew, gods man!" he hissed between his teeth, "You need to shave!! Shave for the love if it!"

Aziraphale gave a small pouting wrinkle of his face like a child that he been told to go wash his hands.

Crowley was still baring his teeth in terror like Aziraphale had the plague and he couldn't bring himself to be near him.

"And your hair...."

"It's always like that!" Aziraphale protested. 

Crowley pouted back. "Ehh, well, except, much more managed. Listen, you look like a peach covered in mold. With wings that are dirty."

Aziraphale gave an even poutier look but didn't protest.

"Seriously, Angel," Crowley said, recrossing his arms and pacing back and forth, "I thought you said you had standards, you damn ruffled mop!"

"Are you thoroughly finished?" Aziraphale pouted.

"Hmmm, no. No I am not. We WERE going out, and we still are. Straight to your barber."

"But, I haven't scheduled!" Aziraphale fretted. 

"No worries, a spot opened up," Crowley assured him raising a hand. "And if I give you a lift, I'm sure he'll be thrilled to have one of his favourite patrons stop by for a trim up! Either that or your miracle yourself into shape."

"We promised," Aziraphale firmly reminded him, "No miracles for a short time. I know we told our employers to leave us alone, but we don't want to act like children in a candy shop, freewheeling miracles for ourselves all the time."

Crowley slipped back on his glasses and hooked his thumbs in his jeans.

"It's a miracle I showed up, angel. I don't see you for three days and you are like this. Is something wrong at all? "

"No, " Aziraphale brushed off so immediately Crowley knew something was askew. "Absolutely nothing. I've just been so entranced with my reading. And well," he puffed a little, "After six thousand years and averting its near end, don't you think I have the right to not being so... strict? Just... letting myself relax? Even for a few days?" 

Crowley narrowed his gaze at those petulant blue eyes.

_"Something else gives, what?"_

"I suppose," Crowley conceded. "Now, please come on and let's get this little sheep to the barn for a proper shearing. Let's go. I'll even sit in the shop with you." 

Aziraphale brightened and stood up.

"Well, that would be wonderful! And then maybe we could go out somewhere!" He was starting for the door as Crowley rocked his body on his heels. 

"Uh, ANGEL, " he barked, scratching the back of his neck.

"Yes?" Aziraphale asked looking back as he stood in the doorway.

"Wings," Crowley reminded him, swirling a finger in the air.

"Oh, uh, yes!' Aziraphale sheepishly remembered, snapping his fingers.

_______________________________________

"And no spots, no loss of foliage, no leaf gall, no petal blight, you hear me?" Crowley barked at the passenger seat to the azalea strapped in. "I know I have your acidity perfect so you have no excuses. You will have a perfectly calm and sunny place in this bookshop, so you'd better NOT have any complaints to me, you got that?"

The day before, Crowley had taken Aziraphale to the barber, which alleviated some of his worries. He even pretended to read some of the stylish magazines lying around and contemplated what hairstyle he should try out soon. It felt like time for a shake-up. Then he took him out to a cafe to try and see if there was something awry he was missing. Aziraphale was chipper, talkative, even irritatingly playful as ever. Perhaps more so than before. And Crowley drifted back into just watching his cheery countenance over their lattes (Azirpahle drank them both). Crowley even convinced him to babysit one of his plants at the bookshop. Give him something to do. Fill some floorspace.

So that is where Crowley and his properly buckled in azalea were headed. He also planned on perhaps convincing Aziraphale to leave the shop early and go out. 

Somewhere, anywhere. 

Stroll through the park, go to a pub, something. 

He slammed the Bentley up to the curb, removed the plant and carried it up to the doors. "Hey, Angel!" he shouted as he waited. The plant stopped quivering.

"Not YOU," Crowley corrected to the azalea, which resumed it's shaking.

Crowley growled and snapped his fingers, opening the doors. _"One little miracle shouldn't break the rules...."_

He roamed in, peeping around. No one was in the shop.

"Aziraphale?"

Nothing. He placed the pot near a sunny floor window and strolled to the back of the shop.

He did find Aziraphale in the back, deep in a book. 

But this time, he was cross-legged on the floor, over jacket removed, and his shoes as well.

And his wings, dirtier than ever, out. They lazily hung to either side, touching the floor like an afterthought.

"Uhhh, Aziraphale?" Crowley asked after peering at him for more than a few seconds.

Aziraphale looked up with a startled expression then beamed, raising his wings slightly.

"Hello! I didn't hear you come in!"

Crowley's mouth gaped a little. "This... is going too far."

"What do you mean?"

"Look at you!" Crowley pointed out. "Socks?! They are filthy?! You've been shuffling around in socks?"

"It's really quite comfortable!" Aziraphale disagreed.

"And, those wings!" Crowley just about screeched. 

Aziraphale looked lost. 

Crowley let out a noisy sigh, flipping his head sideways and he unfurled his own wings.

"These," he retorted, "Are how wings should look! Clean, tidy, every feather in place!"

Aziraphale continued to look perplexed, shrugged, and went back to reading.

_"IS HE EVEN LISTENING?! IS HE IGNORING ME ON PURPOSE? IS HE TRYING TO PROVOKE ME?"_

Crowley stalked over and plunked down beside him, looking closer at one of the off-white wings.

He started running his fingers through the feathers like it was knotted hair.

"I mean, you are a mess! You've never been a mess! The feathers even look more curled!" Aziraphale was arching the wing out closer to Crowley like a cat stretching as it responded to being scratched.

"Oh, if it upsets you so much, you could miracle it better," Aziraphale absently offered.

Crowley couldn't believe what he was hearing. 

"Did, did I say something? Angel?" Crowley offered. "Are you listening to me? I will apologize here and now on the floor if that's what you want."

Aziraphale bit his lower lip but was still reading. "No need for apologies. You haven't upset me at all."

"Alright, seriously," Crowley re-tried, still fussing with feathers, "I know you love books, but maybe you should just put them down for now and... take a bath? "

"I'm almost done," Aziraphale said absently. "I was thinking of returning these and picking up the next stack Anathema had waiting."

Crowley put his face in his hands. "So uh, you going to walk to her cottage in your socks?"

Aziraphale looked up, confused. "Why on earth would I do that? If you don't mind, you are doing a fine job yourself. If it's not too much of a burden... could you keep on with that? My wing feels so much better. " Aziraphale was staring at him straight in the face, absolutely eager looking.

Crowley bulged his already oversized golden eyes. 

_"Truly gone fishing, he has."_

"Tell you what," Crowley replied with every ounce of restrain he could muster, "I have an errand to run. Why don't I return these books to Anathema and pick up your new stack?"

Aziraphale looked upset and his wings plopped back to the floor. "But, I ... wanted to talk to her!"

"Oh, no! You finish your interesting book!" Crowley insisted while getting up. "I'll take the rest!"

"But," Aziraphale was still seated on the floor looking unhappy, "I had some things we had been talking about and..."

"Well, it's proper time I apologized to her about the incident with the car, right?" Crowley was heaving up the finished stack of books.

"And I'd be so embarrassed with you there. You know, time to really say I'm sorry!" 

Aziraphale wrinkled up his nose.

"Fine, I suppose so," he caved. " Are you sure you don't want to just stay and help me with my feathers? They have been off since Near-End of the World."

"Nope!" Crowley said, lurching to the door. "I'll be back in a flash, and we are still going out! You hear me?"

Aziraphale looked torn. "But, I want to stay here and read. With you. It might rain later, I think...."

"Aww, scared of a little rain?" Crowley teased. "A little rain never hurt.... eh, nevermind, I'll be right back."

__________________

Newton had been enjoying his quiet evening, waiting in the kitchen for Anathema to finish getting dressed to go out. He wasn't sure where he was taking her, she was always more sure about these sort of things. Well, about everything, come to think of it.

He was just finishing off some tea when he heard a vehicle revving up and halting noisily on the gravel. " _Oh yeah, Aziraphale said he might bring back her books. I guess Crowley brought him."_

He got up and went for the door, opening just as Crowley jaunted up with an armload of books.

Newton was taken aback. Crowley barely slowed and was always intimidating. But he especially intimidated Newton if his counterpart wasn't around.

"Uhmmm, hello," Newton ventured.

Crowley flashed his teeth. "Oh hey, you. Uhmm, Book Girl's weird boyfriend. Newton, that's it. Hi Newton." He dumped the staggering mountain of books on to Newton who shouldered them.

"Yep, brought them all back. Well, except for one which I have no idea which it is, Aziraphale is currently ensnared in it."

"Oh, I see," Newton wobbled.

"Newton?" Anathema's voice called. "Is that you, Aziraphale?"

"Oh, thank whatever," Crowley sighed with relief. "No, it's not Aziraphale," Crowley yelled back.

Anathema came around the corner looking worried, tying the back to her check-patterned dress. 

"Crowley?" she squinted, trying to figure out what was going on.

"Yep, that's me," Crowley confirmed with speed, "Brought the books back and came for the others."

She was thunderstruck. Newton groaned, staggered in and dumped the books on the table.

Anathema fussed her fingers together, looked sideways, and took a step closer to Crowley who was trying to act blasé in the doorway.

"Is... he... all right?" She queried, actually looking worried.

"Uhhh, you know," Crowley answered, biting his bottom lip, staring off "I think so... tickety boo and all that...... I mean........ no, no he's not." Crowley was shaking his head and seemed to be twitching all over.

"What's wrong?" she pressed.

"Well maybe you could tell me," Crowley jabbed back leaning at Ananthema in a threatening fashion, "Since he wanted to talk to you so very much, and won't talk to me and has taken on the lifestyle of a lazy dirty housecat and..."

"Ah!" Anathema broke in raising a finger with a confident smile. "Please, Crowley, come in for a moment."

Crowley curved back a little. "What?"

"Please," Anathema offered, gesturing once with a hand, "Come in and maybe I can help."

She presented the vaguest grin as an invite.

_"Do I want to get involved? What the hell does she know?"_

Crowley let out an exasperated sigh and tracked in after here. Newton fled to the other side of the kitchen, clutching his cup.

Anathema sat at the small table, looking like a strict schoolmarm behind her glasses.

"Please, sit," she gestured at another chair across from her.

"Nah, I'd rather stand," Crowley countered, thumbs a still jammed in his pants.

Anathema gave a small grin that said there was the only way she was talking.

"Sit."

Crowley splayed in the chair and Anathema leaned closer, clasping her hands in front of her.

"So uh," Crowley questioned, trying to break the silence, in a mocking tone, "Does he come here and you talk over tea and scones?"

"Actually, yes."

"Wow, I can't even joke about him I know him too well," Crowley complimented himself.

Newton slurped from his cup a little too loudly.

"Well, sorry to interrupted his little tea time with you but...."

"I will pack the scones in a tin for you to take back with the books," Anathema intervened, "Let me get right to the point, shall I."

Crowley stopped talking to the room and focused on her through his glasses. "Well, shoot then," he dared.

Anathema inhaled and leaned closer.

"He's currently so enthralled with you he's not thinking of himself, worrying he'll lose the wonderful feeling he has found forever, so escapes from his bashful feelings by his favourite means of escapism; reading."

Crowley scoffed , folding his arms, lashing his form backways with doubt.

"Seriously? I'm highly skeptical. Enthralled? Six thousand years best of friends and...."

"And last week was the first time that you could say that to each other," Anathema persevered.

"Nah," Crowley swept aside. "He's just.... punch drunk off saving the world. That's all. Not being told by the Upstairs he has to be a perfect little angel all the time. "

Anathema sighed, folded her arms and leaned back a bit. "Last week? After the Ritz?"

Crowley snapped his eyes back at her and peered over his glasses.

"What _about_ last week, after the Ritz?" he hissed between his teeth.

She started smirking. "He said that you confessed you loved him, heart and soul."

Crowley tried to look lost.

"Maybe I said something like that." Crowley continued to talk to the room and waved a hand.   
"I was probably... punch drunk myself off the whole saving the world. It gets to your head, you know."

Anathema tilted hers. "And?"

"And... what?" Crowley sneered. "I told him what a great pal he was and...."

"That you couldn't imagine a world without him?"

"Yeah, so? " Crowley sneered. "So he's not taking a bath anymore because of that?"

Anathema looked ready to laugh.

"He said that you were on the park bench that night, in the dark, and you leaned over and kissed him."

Newton clattered his mug on the counter and stumbled for another part of the house. 

"Get dressed, dear," Anathema called to him, "We'll be leaving soon."

Crowley brooded silently.

With an exaggerating a frown he began tracing some symbol on the tabletop hoping it might open a hellish portal he could just fling himself into.

"So? It's just peachy that he's sharing all our personal details with you..." he grunted. 

"Crowley, don't you see?" Anathema looked at him like he was a total idiot. "He won't stop talking about the last few days and how he feels." She leaned closer, resting her arms on the table, a dramatic look on her face that made Crowley feel like a fool. 

There was a pause and silence, except for the sound of Crowley's nail scraping on the table/

"He could.... tell me," Crowley murmured, feeling a bit stung. "Why would he... tell you?"

 **"Because**!" Anathema leaned in more, "

"Because I'm another friend! You are more than that, and if he hasn't said it to you after all this time he probably can't say it for just as long again!"

"But _I_ did," Crowley quietly offered, sounding pained. "I.... said it."

Anathema sighed and put a hand on Crowley's. Crowley was somewhere between repulsed and feeling slightly relieved.

"And maybe you should let him know that it wasn't just THAT moment," Anathema offered.

" 'That ' moment?"

"He thinks that you just said that because everything almost ended, and that now that it hasn't....well, that it was just a fleeting feeling and he'd be happy to be stuck there if it is over. Like in a bubble..."

"It isn't," Crowley said frowning and removing his glasses. He heard Newton scurry back around the corner, but Anathema held a sympathetic unchanging gaze.

"So, you need to reach out to him while he's in this trance and bring him back down to earth."

"Literally," Crowley agreed. "Hmm, maybe I should go and take him out now."

"Or, maybe," Anathema suggested, "Stay even more down to earth. Public places are great, but maybe keeping it more personal and at home is better."

"How?"

She pulled away and stood up. "Well, I can't speak for what you like, and you should both find something you like to do, but let me get you some things..." She walked off and Crowley sat alone for a moment.

_"Wow, is this true? He's just so.... he always says what's on his mind. But, I did too on that bench. I wanted to be with him forever. It was just a quick peck on the cheek..."_

Anathema returned with a small basket and thrust it to Crowley and he took it, peering inside.

"Uhhh, seriously? " He hissed between his teeth, "What am I suppose to do with these items?"

"Whatever the labels instruct, for a start," she offered helpfully. "I mean, you probably know how a brush works."  
"Yeah, uhm" Crowley snarked, "Aziraphale invented them, after all."

Crowley put on his glasses and tried to keep a straight face. 

"Listen, Anathema, I am not exactly sure if...."

"It is," she replied in a no-excuses accepted tone.

"Uhh, alright, then, if it makes him happy...."

"It will. I assure you. And don't forget the scones and books either."

Crowley almost wanted to thank her, but still couldn't quite muster that. Through the veil of his dark lenses. he met her unwavering gaze and felt an ounce of respect.

_"Humans, fleeting encounters and instances to me, but sometimes it's funny what makes them .... well, human."_

Newton reemerged, fumbling with his tie.

"Uhhh, maybe I could drop you kids off on my way back? You need a lift to town, perhaps?"

\-----------------

Aziraphale heard the bell on the door jangle brightly.

"Angel!" Crowley shouted just as brightly. "I'm back! Hey, forgot to set up your closed sign, no worries! I'll do it for you! I have all your nice new books! Are you ready to go?"

Aziraphale suddenly looked up. It was almost dark outside. 

"Uhh, oh, coming! I was hoping to freshen up, maybe a miracle is in order..."

Crowley came around the corner, with an impish grin. 

"Hey! Literally haven't moved? Well, no worries! Let's go! Get on some shoes!"

"Oh, sorry dear," Aziraphale said getting up groggily. "I lost track of time and...uh, perhaps we should just stay here tonight instead?"

"And what?" Crowley chided evilly. "Watch you read a book?"

"But, it... it looks like rain soon. And I am... rather...unprepared."

"No worries," Crowley said brightly. "Just get on your shoes, grab your coat, lose the feathers, and we'll just pop into the pub for one drink. Then, we'll come back here and we can, uh, " Crowley shrugged, "Uhh, talk and read books! How's that?"

Aziraphale cocked his head. "Are you alright?"

"Fine! Perfectly fine! All tickety boo" Crowley continued impatiently. "Now, get on your shoes and let's go!"

Aziraphale shuffled off and returned a moment later more or less ready.

Crowley gave him a haughty grin. "You really are looking like a worn-out Stieff bear or something."

Aziraphale balked. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Like your stuffing is about to come out through your worn out stitches."

Aziraphale made a blustering noise as he headed for the door. 

Crowley snapped the door open and they both felt a rainy gust. 

"Oh! It's starting to rain!" Aziraphale lamented. "Well, at least the car is..."

"Nope, the car stays, we are walking," Crowley corrected, popping a black large brimmed hat on his head.

"But, But, why?" Aziraphale moaned looking mortified.

"Well, it's a short enough walk and you aren't going to melt, are you?"

"No, but...." Aziraphale grabbed an umbrella from the nearby rack. "I don't think the wetness will be worth the fuss."

"It had better be," Crowley muttered as he closed the door behind them.

-________________________

The pub was busy as usual and pounding with some human sports events centered around a large screen television. The duo only got one drink, but Crowley called the toast tonight to be for each other. That made Aziraphale beam and then recede back into his thoughts. Sitting at their table, Aziraphale began asking about Crowley's short trip and how the young couple was. Crowley gave a simple unrevealing account as he gazed towards his angel. 

Aziraphale started feeling the gaze and was getting fubsier and fussier, and Crowley felt that.

_"Is he worried about me? Himself? He could talk to me. Please talk to me."_

But Aziraphale added nothing revealing to the moment.

Crowley stood up after they finished their drinks and held out a hand.

"Now, my diamond in the rough, let's go polish up."

"That's different," Aziraphale said bewildered, but he tentatively took Crowley's hand and pulled close.

Crowley felt him squeezing tighter as they got to the door and stepped out. It was a full downpour as Aziraphale unfurled the umbrella.

______________________

They were halfway, back to the book shop, Aziraphale was holding the umbrella but still pressed against Crowley like he might lose him in the downpour. 

"Aziraphale, wait a minute," Crowley declared stopping and turning.

"Is something wrong?" Aziraphale demanded forcefully, blinking against the drops in his eyes.

"Just...."

Crowley held out a hand, indicating for Aziraphale to pause while he backed up to a lampost, "Wait."

Aziraphale halted under his umbrella, looking shocked. "Whatever are you up to?"

Crowley made it to the post, leaned back against it with a grin, and snapped the fingers on both hands.

Time stopped, except for the downpour. 

Cars froze with waves of water springing from their tires. People were mid-jump across puddles and dashing through the eves dumping rain. The noises of motors shop doors, and people shouting vanished, just the hum of millions of shimmering drops in the dark smacking the pavement.

Aziraphale looked around in overflowing joy. "Whatever are you up to? How did you do that?" he asked with a smile.

"Ah!" Crowley tantalized, still leaning against the post, whipping his wings out suddenly. 

"Are you ever all right?" Aziraphale asked, mortified under the sanctity of his umbrella. "I thought you HATED being wet!"

Crowley shrugged, hugging himself cooly. Internally, he was roiling; he loathed being wet and getting rained on. But certain sacrifices had to be made.

"Wings out, " Crowley ordered. "C'mon. You too, Angel,"

Aziraphale looked baffled. "But, you are getting wetter, Crowley..."

"Wings, please," Crowley insisted, spinning a finger in a circle.

Aziraphale looked amused and unfurled his, still holding the umbrella above his own head.

"Now what?" Aziraphale fretted. 

Crowley approached jauntily, bobbing his wings with each step, putting his hands behind his back, shaking his head.

"Tsk, tsk, you still look dirty and moth-eaten for an angel."

Aziraphale frowned. 

"So," he defensively muttered, "you marched me out to humiliate me _and_ soak me?"

"Of course not. " Crowley corrected innocently. "I marched you out to humiliate you _and_ give you some self-care. How's that?"

Crowley reached in his pocket and pulled out a small jar as he stalked to Aziraphale's side and grabbed the edge of a wing, tugging at it.

"Lower, please," he ordered.

Aziraphale couldn't do anything but oblige, feeling confused.

He felt Crowley vigorously rubbing the wing and craned to see what he was doing.

"Did you bring... soap?" Aziraphale gawked at the lather being worked over his feathers.

"Something Anamthema gave me," Crowley grinned, rubbing broadly over the feathers. 

Aziraphale looked smitten. "Oh Crowley, you really didn't have too..."

"Quiet, you goose," Crowley commanded. "We are not returning until every single feather is individually cleaned. Got it?"

Aziraphale sheepishly settled down as Crowley worked a foam up and was inundated to his elbows.

"It even smells nice," Aziraphale conceded after a moment.

Crowley wasn't going to confess it was baby shampoo. But it seemed like a prudent idea. _"He could be sensitive to something else. And it's supposed to be tearless, I couldn't bear the idea of him crying over the wrong shampoos anyway."_

Crowley was afraid he wouldn't be able to do this thoroughly, but he imagined it was like polishing off the Bentley and the whole task was becoming easy. Long, sweeping strokes, following the feathers, carefully dragging his fingers through the layers. Aziraphale relaxed the wing more and flexed it like a hand outward. Every single feather. 

Crowley peered up as he finished sudsing the first wing to see Aziraphale had lowered the umbrella absently, leaving its protection. He had his eyes closed, face up against the rain. Rapturous.

Crowley moved to the other side and tapped the next wing that was still straight up.

"Next, please."

That wing lowered and he resumed his work, staring back over at Aziraphale's face as it gave the faintest grin at the corners of his mouth.

Aziraphale started bowing his head, eyes still closed and inhaled deeply and fervently. 

Crowley felt a shudder ripple up Aziraphale's body and exit through to the wing he was caressing.

_"Ah, hit the spot, did we? So serene looking."_

The lights from the cars and bars glittered like neon confetti through the droplets around them. The lampost cast a halo-like glow overhead.

Crowley whipped the suds off his hands.

"Now, Angel, " he instructed, "Flap them off!" He gave a flap of his own wings, rocking his torso slightly. Aziraphale opened his eyes, looking upward and gave his several beats. The first slow and labored, the second increasing speed and power, the last airy and fast, slinging soap everywhere along with a few bubbles. 

_"Ha, bubbles you'd better be happy!"_

The slings of white soap moved outward in a few graceful arms and were caught in the lamp light.

" _Like... arms on a spiral galaxy,_ " Crowley mused to himself. " _The raindrops look like stars. You must be the sun. Or something."_

Aziraphale grinned a childish grin at Crowley, who smirked, grabbed his hand and started dashing for the bookshop. They made it to the door just as Crowley remembered. 

"Sorry!" he yelled out to the world as he snapped his fingers and everything came back to life.

_____________________________

The stepped in gingerly, closing the door, not moving far from the threshold.

They both locked eyes and surveyed each other, thoroughly soaked.

They nodded in unison. "Miracle," they both agreed, snapping their fingers simultaneously.

Dry. Overcoats hung up. Aziraphale was back in his socks too.

They both still had their wings out. 

"Now, come on," Crowley said walking around snapping the blinds shut.

"But, Crowley, wait, " Aziraphale gushed, "I haven't even said thank you!"

"I'm not done, so it can wait!" Crowley ordered.

"What, are... we doing tonight?" Aziraphale asked nervously.

"We," Crowley announced, "Are going to finish what I started last week."

"Last....week?" Aziraphale was utterly lost.

"WE," Crowley continued, "Are going to spend a lovely quiet evening here. Now please go sit over there on that chair while I get something."

He gestured to the middle of the room.

"That's not a chair... that's a settee," Aziraphale corrected.

"Set-TEE, whatever. Go set-tee on it, please."

Aziraphale nervously seated and heard Crowley stalking around behind him, occasionally snapping his fingers to which some small action followed; A lamp lit up and the overhead lights dimmed. The victrola quitely emitted some barely audible ambiance. 

Crowley paced up behind him and dumped a book in his lap.

Aziraphale jolted a bit as he grabbed it from tumbling off his legs.

"What...?"

"Oh, just a random one from the stack Ananthema handed me, I have no idea. I just want you to be occupied for a few minutes."

"Why?" Aziraphale asked.

"Because I'm not done," Crowley hissed, " Just keep reading while I finish."

Aziraphale had no real objection to this and slipped into a familiar posture over his book while Crowley came up beside one of the wings.

Crowley firmly grasped it and began brushing it with a soft brush. He'd intermittently pause the strokes to rub dollops of something against the feathers and resume brushing. 

"What are you doing now?" Aziraphale's distracted voice asked after a moment.

"Brushing, obviously. And Anathema said this lotion is detangling or something."

"Oh. That smells rather good too."

"Uh, I think it's cocoa butter. PLEASE don't eat your goddam wing in front of me though. I've been through every literal realm of Hell and even I couldn't handle that tonight. Got it?"

Aziraphale was still nose deep in the book but began swinging his legs from where he sat, like an excited kid. Again the wing was becoming like an outstretched hand, flexing to every touch. 

Crowley was getting fatigued from all the work, it was more than he had planned. But the results were obvious. The feathers were pristine white and flowing again. 

He moved to the next wing, repeated every meticulous brushstroke, feeling Aziraphale let off another full-bodied shudder as he was finishing and Crowley heard him make a gasp like he was shivering.

_"His eyes are closed, he's not even reading. DAMN HIM, the book is upside down too!"_

Crowley smirked staring down the back of his curly head. Still clutching a wing with a hand, he slipped an arm around Aziraphale's shoulders from behind, leaning over him.

Aziraphale folded the book and set it beside him on the settee, reaching his hands up to clasp Crowley's arm and press a cheek against it.

Crowley felt a jolt of melancholy.

"Are... you...alright, Aziraphale?" he asked quietly, afraid something was backfiring.

"Crowley," he whispered like he was afraid to say anything else.

"Hey!" Crowley helpfully brushed off, pushing down to sit beside him as best he could since Aziraphale was refusing to relinquish the arm he was holding.

"Listen, please?" He said assuringly, " C'mon, now, please look at me?" Aziraphale was on the verge of tears which gave Crowley an ill fluttery feeling of not knowing how to handle.

"Listen, don't you be upset..."

"Are you mad at me?" Aziraphale asked, not looking up.

Crowley was taken aback.

"Oh, course not, " He replied, blustering. " I mean, I hate when you are dirty..."

Aziraphale wilted and his wings were brushing the floor.

"I... can't..." Aziraphale sniffled. "I just have been thinking of you! I just, I don't want this to end between us."

"It won't! It hasn't, has it?!" Crowley rushed in disbelief.

"No, But..." Aziraphale pouted. "The words. You said last week. I was afraid that, well, that would be it for us and..."

Crowley suddenly hugged him hard and he could and wrapped his black wings around him.

Aziraphale sighed loudly, as he raised his wings back behind him.

"Look, my favourite Principality, you think things over too much. It makes you so clever, but you run your mind in circles. You worry about everything. EVERYTHING, it drives me mad sometimes. Why don't you worry about yourself for a change? I cared for you since the moment we met. I cared for you since. Feelings change. We come and go. Time marches on to whatever end it's going to. But, one thing that doesn't change and that will be us."

He pulled back and gave Aziraphale an assuring smile. Aziraphale's face dawned with relief.

"And... what you said... on the bench?" He gingerly pursued, as his wings started raising back up.

"Same. No lie. I meant it. I know I lie but I really mean it and still do."

Aziraphale hugged him back so hard, and Crowley felt relieved.

"Just promised me to worry about yourself, then? And take the occasional shower."

Aziraphale hugged harder and rocked back and forth a little.

"I will, I'm so sorry. I just... lost myself there. Almost lost the whole universe and we save that, and I felt adrift for the first time in.... well, ages."

"So!" Crowley announced with some relief, "Since I've earned my rest, let's get on with the evening."

He leaned down suddenly under the settee and pulled out the tin.

"Anathema made these for you, AND, " he reached down again and pulled up a bottle and two glasses.

"Let's go to the back nook, stretch out, while we get drunk, you read something aloud from one of the books, I pretend to listen while falling asleep against you? How's that?" 

Aziraphale had attained his utmost heave-on-earth fantasy; bookshop, music playing softly, lights low, the rain pattering outside, new books to dive into, scones and wine, with his best friend offering to lounge with him.

"Crowley, I love you," Aziraphale purred looking into the slitted yellow eyes.

Crowley cracked a smile and he started to rise from sitting. "Back attcha, angel."

Aziraphale suddenly stood as well, leaned in against Crowley, whose hands were still full of glasses and the bottle.

He raised his own hands and grasped a Crowley's collar, closing his eyes. Crowley didn't stop his smile as their lips touched. 

Their wings curled around to bump each other.

Soft as the sounds coming victrola. Soft as the desk lamps lit around the room. Soft as the rain pattering outside.

Crowley felt a full-body shudder through his wings as well, like pure electric. 

_"And he smells great, thank whomever!"_

They pulled away.

Aziraphale's blue eyes were bulging and Crowley felt demonic. 

"What, knocked your socks off already?" he teased.

"No!" Aziraphale gasped. "YOUR wings!!"

"What?"

"Your wings!! Look at your wings, Crowley!!"

Crowley turned his head slowly and leaned a wing in for a better view.

The black feathers were all curled. Ruffled. Matted. Almost singed looking. And several fist fulls of feathers drifted to the floor.

Crowley's frame sagged and he scrunched up his nose with a groan, still holding the drinking supplies.

"So sorry!" Aziraphale automatically apologized, but he was trying not to giggle.

Crowley shrugged like it was nothing.

"Lucky for you I just didn't flat out molt on the spot!"

They both laughed aloud and re-embraced.

"Let's see if that's possible," the angel dared.

**Author's Note:**

> This is ABSOLUTELY open for your interpretation as being only asexual and physical, or going to a more sexual realm after the chapter closes. Up to you. I want to give aces some representation in this fandom. ;)


End file.
